


Home Is Where The Heart Is

by fabricdragon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Christmas Eve, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Holiday Fic Exchange, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Short & Sweet, Undercover, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 14:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: by request for a Christmas Fic Exchange  Laitie asked for a Bruce/Natasha pairing with this optional prompt: (Superheroes) Bruce and Natasha meet at a vacation spot where they happened to decide separately to go to for the holiday. Do they give in to their love for one another? Or do they continue to deny it?i left the ending ambiguous, and a bit sweet. (but i couldnt picture Natasha being on "vacation" so i had to fudge that a bit.Merry Christmas





	Home Is Where The Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laitie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laitie/gifts).



The hotel catered mostly to tourists and thus had the obligatory Christmas tree and wreath decorations up: they clashed horribly with the tropical décor. The hotel bar was serving some horrid concoction it was calling Christmas on the Beach, and Laurence Haas was sucking them down while trying to get Valerie drunk on them. Valerie James looked longingly at the Scotch sitting on the top shelf of the bar and forced herself to drink the horrible thing with a peppermint stick instead.

Laurence worked for a company that made a number of important, and supposedly secure, items for S.H.I.E.L.D. He’d been suspected of being yet another Hydra agent that hadn’t been in the documents released during the Helicarrier incident–he wasn’t; he was just an idiot who drank too much, talked too much, and was easily led around by his vices. Right now he was drinking too much–vice number one–and pawing at a giggling blonde–vice number two–and trying to get her into bed… which led to vice number three: cheating on his wife who had control of his money. Undoubtedly the combination of these three vices was what led to Hydra getting their hooks into him.

Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow–as Valerie James, giggling blonde–smiled and giggled and excused herself to go to her room and change; Laurence pouted and clung to her like the overly tenacious lecher he was.

“I was thinking of going to the beach, now that it’s dark and I don’t have to worry about a sunburn!” ‘Valerie’ batted her eyelashes at him. “Maybe you could come with me?” _God, no._

“Oh, I hate the beach… sand everywhere…” Laurence ran a hand suggestively over her ass and Natasha heroically resisted the urge to knife him. “I only come to these places for the nightlife…” Laurence kissed the back of her neck.

It took her ten more minutes to extract herself from the man and head back to her hotel room. A tipsy Valerie wandered around the room–actually checking for bugs–before she sat down and reported in through the secure channels. This had been an easy assignment, if a bit personally unpleasant: the target had turned out to be just a useful idiot that Hydra was pumping for information, not a Hydra member himself after all. She waited for the acknowledgement; as expected, she was told to continue as her cover until the end of her ‘vacation’ and then come home. Valerie was a useful cover identity and it didn’t make sense to jeopardize it.

_Sigh._ Her Valerie identity was very useful and very ‘blonde’–in all the stereotypical ways that her target liked: vapid, vain, and easy to get drunk. Why people thought blondes were easy to get drunk Natasha would never know: in her professional experience it was the brunettes that went under the table first.

She didn’t want to have to deal with Laurence anymore–the man might not be Hydra, but he wasn’t pleasant company–but she had to stay in character in case any of his handlers were watching….

_And no killing him_ , she told herself in Coulson’s dry deadpan, _he’s a USEFUL idiot_.

Well, he hated the beach, and as long as she stuck to full coverage bathing suits she should probably pass unnoticed–even if it did mean reducing her carried weapons….

Her room phone started ringing–probably Laurence trying to invite her over for a late dinner…

She decided that the beach seemed like a REALLY lovely place to be–firelight and music and maybe a cookout–right then.

It was. Not only was it blessedly free of Laurence, but it was full of an eclectic mix of locals and tourists that enabled one more person to effectively vanish. She wandered along in her bathing suit and sun dress, carrying her sandals in one hand. The sand was still warm from the day’s sun but the night air was cool and she pulled her wrap around her shoulders. Over in one direction she found a small beach bar–complete with ridiculously-named drinks for far too much money–but wandering further down the beach, in and out of the firelight and lanterns, she found herself in a celebration.

She asked, in between dancing with a few of the extended family members and having some local dishes pushed into her hands, what was the cause? “A birthday?” she asked. “A wedding?”

One of the promising young people in the clan, she was told by a very excellent dancer–old enough to be a grandfather to a girl her age, he told her–had been very ill and a visiting doctor had saved his life.

“It was all we could do to bring him to the beach and honor him with a party: he’s very humble.”

“A blessing he was there at the right time.” She nodded and then asked, “A tourist?”

“Not local, no, but not a tourist: he’s here with a charity,” the man smiled. “Building houses, repairing some of what was lost in the last big storm.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “A man who puts his hands where his heart is.” Then she smiled and excused herself from another dance. “You put me to shame,” she smiled. “I haven’t danced in far too long.”

“A pretty girl like you?” he laughed. “Let me introduce you to my grandchildren! If you aren’t being taken out dancing often, then the men where you’re from are blind!”

“More like they don’t dance politely…” she admitted, thinking of Laurence and shuddering.

“Hmmph! Any of the boys here try that and you tell me and I find their mamas!” he snorted. “Go get a plate of food and stay awhile! I’ll still be dancing when you get your breath back!” he grinned at her and made ‘shoo-ing’ gestures towards the food.

She looked back over her shoulder as she made her way over, and sure enough he was dancing with someone else. _He must be at least 70 and still showing the young men how it’s done_ , Natasha thought to herself with a laugh.

She found herself swept into a throng of people all of whom seemed intent on having her try a different dish and was trying to explain that she could only try so many things at once, when a familiar voice said,

“They don’t believe me when I tell them that, either…”

Natasha turned and found herself face to face with Dr. Bruce Banner.

He was thinner, and tanner, and his hair had lightened from the sun… and she saw the exact moment when he realized that the blonde tourist was the Black Widow…

He tensed to bolt and then sagged, “I hadn’t expected they would send you again.”

“No one sent me… I had no idea you were here.” She glanced around at the far too many eyes and interested people, “I heard someone was the hero of the day; I should have known it was you! I’m just here on a working holiday and getting away from a rather unpleasant fellow back at the hotel…” She held her plate in one hand and slipped her arm through his. “It really was unexpected to see you here.” And then in her usual voice, and very quietly, “I mean it Bruce: I had no idea.”

She saw him taking in the number of civilians: people who would be hurt if he transformed, or if she had back up and he bolted.

“Can we take a bit of a walk?” he asked nodding toward the surf.

“Of course!” she smiled and walked with him. Once they were a bit further from other ears she murmured, “My cover is Valerie, by the way. what should I call you?”

“Are you… actually not here for me?”

“I promise, Bruce, just tracking down a potential Hydra agent–who turned out to be just a compromised civilian who talks too much.” She smiled ruefully, “and has wandering hands and horrible taste in drinks: I really was avoiding him by heading down the beach.”

Bruce looked back at the party, “I…”

“I had no idea you were here, and my back up is minimal…” Natasha said as quietly as she could. “Valerie is a valuable cover identity.”

She felt Bruce relax just a bit under her arm. “It’s difficult to believe that…” he looked over at her, “I won’t risk them; if you’re here to retrieve me, just say so.”

Natasha shook her head once, firmly, “I had no idea you were here. I am quite seriously hiding out from the letch now that I’ve determined he’s just an idiot pawn.” She smiled ruefully, “But as I said, Valerie is a valuable cover identity, and he is just an idiot, but his handlers might notice if I suddenly broke character and left… so… a walk down the beach.”

“I’m glad.”

They walked for a while, and found a spot to sit down at the edge of the firelight to eat their food.

“I won’t tell anyone where you are, Bruce. We have too many leaks and too many Hydra moles still in place, but… I wish you’d come back.”

“I don’t think the Hulk would be much help.”

Bruce looked down and smiled that shy and self-effacing smile he had. It hit Natasha suddenly just how much she’d missed seeing it.

“The Hulk? Not so much,” she said quietly into her plate of… “But–” she cut off abruptly as her taste buds caught up with her. “This is really, really good.”

Bruce laughed suddenly. “Oh, yes. They were determined to put weight on me and some of the ladies I think were trying to show off the cooking as matchmaking…”

She waved a fork at it, “This would definitely work on the right target.”

“Like you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Tempting, but I was thinking more about Clint.” She smiled slightly. “How’s it working on you?”

“I enjoy the food, but… I won’t risk them by staying,” Bruce answered honestly.

“Mmm.” Natasha nodded and ate her food. After a while she said, “I meant it: I wish you’d come back–not for the Hulk, for you.”

“Me? I thought the main reason S.H.I.E.L.D.–“

Natasha cut him off, “Not S.H.I.E.L.D., Bruce. The Avengers Initiative… well… we fractured and now we’re trying to get back together–separately. I may be trying to save S.H.I.E.L.D. because I think they’re needed, but… Steve and I were on the run, hunted and declared traitors by our own people… it…” She paused and tried to think about how to explain it to him. “I’m used to being alone, and it wasn’t the people I trusted that turned on me–I’ll handle it–but Steve, and even Tony to some extent… it shook them.”

Natasha looked up expecting to see the usual bafflement at her point of view, what she saw was the intent sympathy that Bruce managed despite his own problems.

“That,” she said nodding.

“What?”

“That look that says you’re listening, and you’re trying to understand, and I have your complete attention: that’s so rare.”

He blinked at her, “It is? It shouldn’t be.”

“Should be and shouldn’t be are fairy tales we tell ourselves; I learned long ago to deal in what IS and ISN’T.”

“Should,” Bruce said quietly, “is sometimes a lot more worthy a goal.”

“That’s why I wish you would come back.”

He flashed that baffled grin at her, “Still a bit lost.”

“You manage somehow to be grounded in what is, and isn’t. You weren’t blind to the realities around you–you saw the problems–but you still… you still try for ‘should be’. It’s… nice.”

They sat there until the sounds of the party started to fade… somewhere Natasha had ended up resting her head on Bruce’s shoulder.

“People will talk…” Bruce said finally.

“They usually do.” Natasha smiled up at him. “Blonde tourist cuddling up to the local hero? Quite the tongue wagger.”

“It must be difficult, sometimes, playing all those roles.”

“It didn’t used to be, back when, but… I got used to having people I could be honest with.” She let Bruce help her to her feet.

“So… did I,” Bruce admitted.

“Come back,” she nodded at the people packing up, “when you finish here.” She recited an email at him. “That goes to me, through Jarvis; no one else sees it.”

“I’ll consider it.” Bruce looked around, “Heck of a way to spend Christmas Eve, isn’t it?”

“Surrounded by friends? Good food, music…” she smiled, “better than most Christmases.” Then she paused and shot him a mock stern look, “Although if anyone makes me drink another ‘Christmas on the Beach’ with a peppermint stick in it, I will shoot them.”

He put an equally fake horrified expression on, “Good God, how did you stand it?”

“Anti-interrogation training,” she nodded solemnly.

He smirked, “But can you withstand twelve hours of Christmas Carols on endless repeat?”

She looked up at him, “As part of the training to become a remorseless killer, they make you work retail from Black Friday to Christmas–I can take it.”

Bruce tried to keep a straight face… and failed. Natasha kept hers until she was trying to haul him up off the sand and was struck by the utter absurdity of it and ended up sitting next to him trying to smother the giggles.

After what seemed like a long time, Bruce recovered enough to get up and helped her up for the second time.

“I missed having people who knew about me… and I could still laugh with,” Bruce admitted.

“Believe it or not, Bruce… so did I.”

“I’ll… I won’t promise, but… I will think about it.”

“Even if you decide not to come back… if you need anything…”

They stood awkwardly looking at each other and finally Natasha turned to go.

“Can I hug you?” Bruce asked as she was turning away.

“Sure, just watch the knife holster.”

He stared at her for a moment and then laughed, “Only you.” They hugged each other briefly, and let go.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, “…assuming you celebrate it.”

“Peace on Earth, Good will to all mankind? I could get behind the concept.” He smiled back at her. “Best Christmas Eve I’ve had in a long time.”

Natasha turned and walked back down the beach toward the hotel. She didn’t look back.

The hotel was quieter when she got back, mostly a few employees cleaning up after the parties. She slipped her shoes back on and got into the elevator only to hear lyrics that she’d just been thinking of…

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need…”

She smiled a bit despite herself. “Well, I got my Christmas present. I wonder if he got his?”

…

Bruce walked back to the temporary housing he and the other aid workers and builders had been staying in. He should pick up and keep running, but…

He found himself thinking wistfully about people he could talk to, who weren’t afraid of him…. Tony would put him up and Natasha…

Bruce started singing to himself a song that had been his companion for quite a few too many Christmas Eves…

“Christmas Eve will find me where the love light gleams. I'll be home for Christmas… if only in my dreams.”

For the first time in a long time, he went to sleep with a smile.


End file.
